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romantic poem

god
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
beautiful
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
i love the old melodious lays
rising moon has hid the stars
those black eyes i once so praised
calm as that second summer
what do i owe to you
and so it goes
for truth, for love
softly weeping
let a joy keep you
why are the things that have no death

 



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